One-Upped You
by Pseudo Rabbit
Summary: Who would've thought that Jack Frost would one day have to fight over the attention of his first believer Jamie with...Peter Pan. Prick, get some other kid to cart off with to Neverland. [ Jack x Jamie ; Spoilers ]
1. Prologue

**One-Upped You**

_Disclaimer_: I own nothing!

_Author's note_: Yeah, first ROTG fic! I had this idea and wanted to test the waters with it. Let's see how this plays out.

_Warnings_: Slash (boy x boy) ; Spoilers (added for caution) ; Slight OOC (also added just for caution) ; aside from Jack/Jamie (who is in his late teens in this fic) there will probably be some variation of Peter slash but at worst it'll just be teases. I haven't decided this yet, so I'm just putting it as a warning in advance just in case.

* * *

**Prologue**

Let me let you in on something folks.

Peter Pan is very real.

That is to say, he is just as real as North, Sandy, Bunnymund, Tooth and – last but certainly not least – Jack Frost. The latter mentioned character being of particular importance.

Now you see, while Jack Frost and Peter Pan had everything to get along like the closest of brothers, they...didn't. On the contrary, their very similarities – penchant for fun, childlike endeavors, immortality (well that was a given for all the fantastic creatures), rejection of adulthood – was the very spark which set off what started as a small rivalry flame then escalated into something much more aggressive, well beyond the solitary flame it once was, as the years went by.

And three-hundred-plus years is a _lot_ of years.

To lay-down the situation bluntly, basically both Peter and Jack always felt the need to prove themselves better than the other. Their characteristic similarities were so alike it were as if both of them felt there was no room for an "extra" of themselves, hence forth, a feud to settle who was the better "Spirit of Fun" was born. A feud neither of which the likes could ever win, as the rivalry evolved to the point where it was more about seeing not just who could out-prank the other, but _how_ they out-pranked the other. With every new endeavor one boy played on the other, as an unspoken, assumed rule, the victim always had to outplay the offender, serving them double what they had last dished out. Creativity in royally pissing the other off – or humiliating the other – was the key to this game.

To paraphrase, whenever one would set-up the other, the victim would later have their way back by taking his revenge in some form – all the while trying to top-up what was last done to them. Rinse and repeat.

Telling you all about the chaotic schemes and altercations this rivalry had brought through-out their three-hundred-plus years of goofing about would be endless, maybe worthy of a separate story of its own. So instead, I will tell you about a one paticular concocted scheme which Peter Pan – after a rather devasting coup-de-folie from yours truly Jack – was about to play out as payback.

Through way of being a little bit more tactful and resourceful as opposed to immediately acting brashly, Peter discovered a new perspective through which he could strike at Jack differently. And it was all through the little protégé that Jack had apparently been fond of that his scheme would enroll. The idea was simple: win over Jack's favorite little boy through luring him into the wonders of Neverland. Show him the _real_ way to have fun. Show him that snow and ice skating and whatever lame ass thing Jack did to impress the kids of the regular world had nothing compared to roary drunken Pirates, beautiful Mermaids and actual real-life Indians.

And, ultimately, show him that _he_ was the better Fantastic Best Friend. Filling in Jack Frost's place with himself was the ultimate goal.

So it is on that note how our story begins.

* * *

_Since this is merely the prologue, it is naturally small. Later chapters will definitely be a lot more longer. Anyway thanks for reading!_


	2. Chapter 1

AN: Wow what an overwhelming amount of positive responses! Much thanks to every single one of you, it's been greatly appreciated. Well now having teased you all with the idea I hope what I produce through-out the following chapters meets your expectations!

So without further ado, here's the first chapter.

* * *

**Chapter 1 : Growing up is ****Overrated**

_"How's that gum Meatwad?" _

_"Mmm, kicks butt! The flavor go on and on. Also, I joined the marines."_

_"You did what?"_

_"I joined the marines!"_

_"Well that was very dumb of them to take you."_

It was a late Friday night and Jamie was comfortably tucked in the sole armchair of the living room in front of the TV, the gargantuan furniture practically swallowing him whole.

He was no longer a little six year old boy from ten years prior. He was now a young teen, standing strong at the prime age of sixteen. Age however did little to accommodate his appearance; he grew to be a relatively scrawny fellow of below the average height. In any event there was Jamie, sitting snug in the armchair wrapped in a fluffy blanket all the while watching a couple of characters from one of his preferred shows bicker at one another – as they routinely did.

Without leaving his eyes from the screen he stretched his arm on out, out in search for the glass bowl of popcorn steadily placed on the adjacent coffee table. Just...a little...further–ah there we go, just managed to catch it by the edges before it was sent spiraling downwards and spilling all of its contents on to the hard-board floor in the process. That would've been a mess he certainly wasn't up for cleaning. Sophie, his younger sister, wasn't even around to falsely pin the blame on either – she was conveniently staying over at a friend's place for the weekend. Not that that bothered Jamie in the slightest – in her absence he could have the whole TV to himself whenever he wanted, without having to engage in a penguin slap fight. Despite only being twelve, she could hit _hard_.

He stuffed his face with a handful of the salty snack, slowly, noisily chewing, eyes still never leaving the glowing screen.

_"Well look here, maggot! You drop your cocks and grab your socks – we shipping out in three hours!"_

_"We?"_

Truth be told, he would much rather be doing something else. Something else which, for the past seven years, he never could get enough.

And that something was hanging out with Jack Frost.

Just the thought of it brought a smile to his face.

Jamie grew older as the years went by, but one thing that never changed was his belief in Jack Frost. Jamie kept believing, and Jack Frost kept coming back. Over the years a bond of friendship and trust was forged between the two, a bond which Jamie couldn't even remotely compare to his relationships with his other friends from school.

During the day he went to attend class, then once he got back and the darkness of the night kicked in they'd sneak out together and horse around, making the most of their limited hours of the night (Jamie still had to get some hours of sleep, especially with his courses demanding more and more of his concentration). Or otherwise plan a snow day for the following morning, so they could enjoy a prolonged moment together.

However Jack wasn't going to come tonight. He had matters to attend to - Guardian matters._ "Hey chin up,"_ Jamie recalled Jack telling him the night before. "_I'll come round on Saturday. We'll plan a whole weekend of nothing but fun." _

So, until their bountiful weekend of fun and events, Jamie settled with the next best thing : TV.

Not too far from the living room were the faint jingles of some keys. Someone was struggling to open the main door.

_"We should just go to Canada, right now!"_

_"That's a good idea!"_

_"It's not too late right?"_

Key inserted. Slot turned. Front door creaked open.

_"No I don't think so...sure I mean we can go anytime! Why not? It ain't like this is the marines or nothing."_

_"What? It's not? I thought it was."_

_"Well it ain't. Wait... maybe it is. But either way I mean we should be able to leave if we're not happy here. And I'm not."_

It was his mom. Jamie didn't look up, but he already knew. She certainly must have just returned from the parent teacher conference. Jamie groaned a little to himself, already suspecting all of what she had to transmit from her teachers.

The cartoon characters were still enacting their scene on the screen when he heard his mother's flat shoes stop right behind the armchair he was comfortably nestled in. She didn't say anything, instead opted to wait. For what? For Jamie to start speaking? If that was what she was banking on Jamie did not heed, and instead kept up his game of pretend, feigning ignorance of her presence. Meanwhile in the space of what was supposed to be the silence of the living room, the noises booming loudly from the TV set filled the void in its stead.

"Jamie dear," started his mother.

"Not now mom, I'm in the middle of watching something."

Just as quick as that was said, Miss Bennett snatched up the remote from the coffee table and promptly shut off the TV. Jamie didn't even register the swift movement of her arm until the TV suddenly went dead in front of his eyes. His cozy, comfortable position must have left him rather drowsy, slowing down his reflexes and attention in result making it difficult for him to react quick enough.

"Yes,_ now_ Jamie. We need to talk."

In response the boy angrily turned in his seat to face his bearer, temperament apparently washing away the last of his wooziness. He glared before barking one of his own. "What? What's the deal? My grades are great and I'm passing all my classes with flying colors. What more do you want?"

Mother Bennett had a tired look to her. She sighed a little, rubbing her temples with the dainty tips of her free fingers. "Oh Jamie, you a brilliant child, no one is denying that."

"So can I please get back to my show?"

Mother held the remote tighter in her hand – he wasn't going to get out of this that easy. "Listen Jamie, it's not your grades which are the issue. It's your...character. Your teachers are worried - I'm worried! As of late you have been considerably more...distracted. Less attentive. Your biology teacher even commented on how you once slept throughout one of his early morning classes. I thought you loved biology." She paused a little, observing her son to try and read his reaction. He still held that very same glare he cornered her with once she turned off his box of wonders. "How to put this...it's like, while you are physically present, you're not there either. Your mind and conscious are off somewhere else."

"I honestly don't even know why any of this matters if I'm getting great marks anyway."

"That isn't the point. Jamie, dear, what is it that's keeping you so distracted from us?"

"Nothing is. Everything is fine."

"Is it because of a girl?"

The question was so sudden and, frankly, so out of left-field to Jamie, that he could not help but stare in surprise. He blinked twice with newly widened eyes, cut short of what to say.

"Are you possibly hiding a relationship from me?"

"No..."

She sighed one last time for the night. But it wasn't an exasperated sigh – it was a content sigh. As if she had finally gotten her suspicions confirmed, but for the better. With a soft smile growing across her face, she slowly brought down her hand to stroke Jamie's hair with all the tenderness a mother could give. "My baby boy...when did you get to be so big and secretive so fast?"

She handed the remote that was once held tight in her hand back to her son, all the while bending over to kiss him on the head.

"C-cut it out, mom!" Jamie tried to pull away, but only half-heartily. He didn't all that mind the affection. Plus it wasn't like there was anyone to witness it anyway...

Miss Bennett only giggled in response to her half-thrashing-about son. "I'm sorry, I can't help it. I love you oh so much," She ruffled his hair some more. "Look if you're not ready to share anything yet, that's fine. Just be careful, and try not to let your 'distractions' get the better of yourself."

"I told you that there's nothing mom..."

This time his mother flat-out laughed in his face. "Of course there isn't!"

Whatever. If letting his mom think he really did have a girlfriend made her happy and kept her from finding out about his late-night activities, then so be it.

"I'll be reading in my bedroom, don't stay up too late."

"Yeah yeah."

She was just about to turn on her heel to leave, when suddenly she decided she had one last important thing to say.

"Oh, and stop watching those cartoons. You're not a little boy anymore."

* * *

A little further away from the outskirts of Burgess, hovering in the deep night skys, were two fantastic creatures on a hunt. Well, one of them wasn't really a creature so to speak; he was a young boy rather, flimsily coated in dirty shards of green rags. The other one, where creature could be more aptly applied, looked to be an ever glowing firefly but was in fact a pixie.

Their names? Peter Pan and Tinkerbell, respectfully.

Tonight was the night they were going to pull the big stunt on the Spirit of Winter, Jack Frost. They were on their way to retrieve Jack's supposed favorite little playmate, the opportunity for the capture proved to be perfect: they knew Jack was on an errand that, due to a summon from the great North, had to be attended to for pretty much the whole length of the day and night. From the lack of any sort of real commotion from the other fantastic creatures it didn't sound like it was a big deal – at least definitely not to the likes and heights of that Pitch fiasco from ten years ago. Boy was Peter glad he wasn't a Guardian! Responsibilities could kiss his ass, as far as he was concerned.

So there they were, on their way to collecting their precious loot with Tinkerbell chiefly leading the way while Peter followed suite; for you see, Peter had bestowed upon Tinkerbell the task to retrieve their needed information. She in a sort, acted as the spy that followed and crept up on Jack just to take notes of where exactly he went to meet his friend, where the friend lived and, more importantly, get a good view of how he looked so he could easily identified. All the meticulous handling Peter had left to Tinkerbell, who generally always did a good job of things. She was, after all, his "right-hand woman" of sorts.

Although it seemed like his pixie friend was incredibly irritable tonight. She was thrashing and complaining, all the while flying towards their destination but at a much slower pace. Apparently the greater part of her concentration was geared towards her complaining.

"Tink what's with the Galapagos pace? Let's speed up, I haven't eaten yet and I'm starving."

The pixie abruptly stopped mid-flight, as if scandalized by what her partner had just said. Her mangled "tinker" cries and gestures of frustrations understandable only to Peter, otherwise incomprehensible to the human ear.

"You're not still upset about that one mistake from this morning?"

It was merely a mishap, and they were all bored that day. Luke, one of the lost boys, decided out of sheer boredom to splash awake a napping Tinkerbell. The boys frequently pulled stunts on each other just for laughs, but Tinkerbell was never really included in the mix as they had all assumed, because she was a girl, she probably wouldn't react as cheerily as the rest of the all male gang did. But again that thought process was just that – an assumption. While Tinkerbell was very much a female pixie she still hung around with them all the time, and was still very much a part of their family. As a result of this reflection, Luke had concluded that their assumption was a double-standard and thus, decided it was safe to pull one on their shimmering friend. With spending so much time with them clearly she too would take it in good form.

Oh, how they were wrong.

"Really Tink stop being so ass-pained over the incident. It's not like it was acid, it was just a bit of water. Get over yourself."

But no, Tink wasn't going to get over it. Peter's nonchalant answer had only aggravated Tink more, as her thrashing and tinkering became wilder and wilder. She persisted her whining, throwing around squeaks that amounted to "beauty sleep", "damaged dress", "ruined hair", and all the likes relating to vanity. Yes, Tinkerbell was a rather vain pixie. What of it? She liked to look good. Looking good helped her feel good about herself, too.

But of course Peter could not understand her argument, as she looked fine and as she usually did to him. So as far he was concerned she was making a bigger deal of the whole gag which was supposed to be a bit of light-hearted fun. He scoffed the whole thing off, pigeon-holing the deal as simply being a girl thing.

It wasn't that Peter was insensitive to her – he cared for her, more than he did for his gang of the lost boys admittedly – it was just, usually when Tinkerbell got upset it almost always seemed as if she blew the issue out of proportion, this new case being of no exception. Deep down he suspected she simply _liked_ creating a bit of drama.

"Whatever Tink, I'm done with this stupid conversation."

Tink sure as hell wasn't. She snapped back as best she could.

"La la la not listening! La la la still not listening!"

The fairy grunted, her once golden aura seeped by a deep blazing red. Fine, she decided. If Peter was going to behave like a jerk about it like he did with everything else, why should she bother helping him out with his stupid beef against Jack Frost? Respect went both ways, and if she felt that she was being taken for granted she would damn well make him know it. Without warning or an adieu, she rocketed off the opposite direction at blazing speed – back to Neverland, leaving Peter to find their loot all on his lonesome.

Peter blinked in surprise at the abrupt take off by his little companion. He wasn't going to let her have the last word! In a desperate attempt he called back in retaliation. "Fine, whatever! Run off like a bitch Tink, see if I care! I don't need you for this anyway!" Whatever indeed - all that pixie complaining was eating at his nerves in any event. All the better for him really, now he could continue on his way to get the little Jamie kid pronto then finally head back just as quick to satiate his ever grumbling stomach.

...to which he suddenly realized: it was Tinkerbell who was leading the way. She was the one who knew where exactly he lived. She was the one who was discretely spying on Jack to pin-point the bearings. Hell she was the one who knew what he looked like!

"Oh, what utter crap."

Suddenly he really hated Luke for doing that dumb stunt at all. Maybe if that hadn't taken place – or at least not on the day they were meant to put their stunt against Jack in action. _This sucks,_ he thought to himself with a little aggravation.

Peter stood there in midair, looking pensive. He always could try to chase after Tink for them to continue on their merry way once again, but with the way things had ended on such a horrible note something told him that the pixie wouldn't be in any mood to carry out with the plan – whether or not he apologized. When Tinkerbell got mad, she got _mad_; there was no consoling her out of the problem. Generally the solution for everyone was just to wait it out, until she cooled off. Peter however tended to forget.

"I guess I really am on my own then. How to start..."

Peter looked downwards, scanning the night view of the town below him. He scratched his head a little, trying to think of any possible short cuts as to how to proceed. He couldn't know if he was in the right region of where the boy lived, let alone who he was, for he had never bothered to stop and ask about the details from Tinkerbell. He literally knew _nothing_. The sole thing he had going for him was the boy's name, which wasn't of much help at all – there were probably hundreds of other little children of the same birth name. Peter had placed all external knowledge into Tinkerbell's hand without asking for a share of said knowledge, much to his chagrin. At the time he was just content in her doing the dirty work and leading, and that was it – it never once crossed his mind that a disgruntle would shatter all their plans and efforts.

He begun to really regret not being tactful at all around the temperamental Tinkerbell - or at least, for not being bright enough to get to know the details beforehand. He scratched his head harder, frustrated at himself for being a dink like that.

"Not much else I can do about it now, I guess. Hargh, but the moment was just perfect! Damnit Tink!"

And so, with no other real options at hand, Peter decided to postpone the mission to another date. He consolidated himself with the fact that he could return to Neverland and at the very least, finally get to eat.

It looked like in the end, they wouldn't be able to put the perfect timing of Jack's absence to good use. Waiting until another Guardian mission would be dumb, he thought, as who knew when that would ever happen. The meetings tended to happen sporadically, and to his knowledge there was no real periodic gathering. Maybe he could plan out an altercation with the lost boys to stall Jack?

The thoughts ran at the back of his mind as Peter flew through the skies, enjoying the winds of the evening as he began to slowly make his way back over to his turf in Neverland.

* * *

_"Is it because of a girl?"_

Jamie was heading up the steps to his room with the bowl of unfinished popcorn still clutched in his arms. It was getting to midnight.

_"Are you possibly hiding a relationship from me?"_

Jamie's mother wasn't completely far off when it came to pinning down Jamie's distraction. He was distracted, yes, but by his and Jack's sneaking out and horsing around away from public eyes. Finally maybe he wasn't as discrete about it as he thought he was.

Up until the moment his mother brought up the subject that evening, Jamie had never once thought about the banality and possibility of having a girlfriend.

Suddenly upon further thought, he realized that he probably wasn't even straight.

Here's the thing: while everything about his friendship with and attachment to Jack was true, there was another detail that was left aside:

Jamie was in love with Jack.

He knew this. He knew this for a while now. Jack being a boy like himself had never phased him. He never went through an internal struggle of denial over his feelings, over the implications of loving the person the same sex as himself. He had accepted it for what it was.

Gay or straight or bi - he never really took the time to both reflect or experiment to wager which 'orientation' box he socially belonged to, because frankly, he never cared. For years he already had his eyes and his heart set for someone else. The gender had been regardless. The sexuality had been regardless. It was simply the kind of love and attachment that took precedence over all else, over all social boundaries of society's sexual orientations, over all logic, and most of all, over one's self. Jack had always been his focal point.

Jamie would always remember the first day he saw Jack. He was merely six years old then, but even at that moment a special link, a link no one else could ever share with Jack, was forged: the bond of being Jack Frost's first believer. It made him feel special, even to this day.

As the years went by, and as their bond grew stronger and stronger, Jamie's attachment to the Spirit of Winter grew beyond friendship, beyond fraternity. Beyond all platonic territories into a dangerous realm of lust and romance, all of which he inclined to keep to himself. Because all the while, no matter how much he secretly wished more for the two, he could never be sure whether Jack reciprocated his feelings without blatantly bringing it up. And their current standing as intimate friends was too important for him to shatter on the off chance they could become something more.

There were moment, however, where Jamie sometimes suspected. Just maybe, maybe, Jack felt the same way. Just maybe something more could happen. They were as intimate as friends would go: when Jamie was upset, Jack wouldn't mind letting him stay in his arms. When Jamie didn't feel like going out, or felt sick, or just wanted to stay and have a quiet moment in...he'd comply. There had always been a sort of intimacy between the two which he didn't have with anyone else; but then again, Jamie couldn't wager whether his actions were more as a result of their trust in one-another being absolute.

But even if they could and did take things to the next step, what then? And if they couldn't, what then again? Jack was immortal, Jamie was not. Eventually Jamie would age. Hell, time was consuming his life away as he battled with his internal musings! It had already been ten years since the incident with Pitch, eventually he would turn twenty, twenty-five, thirty...eventually he would have to start working, have to start struggling to meet ends meet on his own. And what if he was too tired or too old to keep up with the ever spirited Guardian of Fun? Responsibilities, jobs, bills, life...things would eventually have to change, no matter how hard he tried to hang on to his youth.

Thinking more and more about the future only further made him worry at how restrained their relationship could get.

"Urgh, I hate this!" As Jamie entered his room and closed the door behind him, he sank down, defeated, clutching the bowl in his arms all the more harder. Oh, the woes of a teenage boy. "I don't want to grow up!"

Frustrated, flustered, confused; resentful of life, of fate; falling in love with an immortal; an immortal who was your closest friend; everything about it sucked. He hated thinking about it. He hated getting so _upset_ over it.

Jamie abruptly brought the bowl of salty goods to his face, gargling down as much of its contents in the hopes it would ease away the pain, or distract him enough from it. Eating was one of Jamie's general short-term remedies whenever he had a heavy heart, the pleasant flavors bringing a flash of temporary enjoyment. But today it did neither. He brought his swallowing to a stop, bringing the bowl and what was left of its remains back down on his laps.

Suddenly he really wanted to see Jack now.

He just...just wanted to forget. He wanted to be held in his arms for a moment, just to...forget and embrace the moment and the youth they had now.

But Jack was away, he said he'd be away. Away until morning.

This didn't stop Jamie from hoping though.

He got up, sniffing back a few pebbles of frustrated tears which never got the chance to roll off his pink tinted cheeks, and went towards his window. What a clear, starry night, Jamie thought to himself. Indeed – the sky was a mystic deep blue with the full moon hanging up high, putting the stars to shame with its bright light. He freed his hands of the bowl by placing it on top of his work table then went to open the window as wide as the hinges would allow him, on all the hope in the world that Jack would come for the night.

He stayed by the window, captivated by the beauty of the picturesque sky. Eventually he decided to camp right by it, so he went to retrieve his pillow and duvet from his bed and arranged them on the floor, by the windowsill, as comfortably as he could manage. With the lights out and his camp ready, he dived right into the heap of soft beddings.

...

Soon enough, with his heavy thoughts still swimming around in his mind, sleep caught up with Jamie.

* * *

Peter never did make it back to Neverland finally. In the end he had decided he'd stay around the area and enjoy the nightly breeze, the current being of an exceptional cool that brought a pleasant tingle to his skin. He haphazardly wondered if it had anything to do with Jack's icy affinity affecting the general air with (what he assumed was) his constant back and forth from his mortal friend's place.

His hunger issues however were not withstanding, so in light of attempting to do two things at the same time Peter would occasionally swoop down down into the empty streets of the region to see if he could nab any abandoned edibles from open kitchen windows or sidewalk littering. It was pretty outstanding the amount of things people let loose from their grasps, just within his twenty or so minutes of chicken-hawking around for scraps he found a mini bottle of soda still full to the brim and a box of unopened caramel sweets.

Currently he was raiding out a kitchen fridge which clumsily had it's window open. The lights were completely out and the house was as dead as the night, all to which Peter assumed the family were tucked in bed and peacefully sound asleep. He could still smell the faint waifs of their roasted dinner, with what he could only imagine was accompanied with an assortment of vegetables. Urgh, why did he think of that – now he too _really_ wanted a slice of whatever that dinner was that smelt so good. It didn't help that he was still hungry.

The fridge wasn't particularly full of any cooked leftovers, the family having apparently cooked and eaten the last of their fresh edibles that evening. Jam, milk, a bit of chocolate, cheese...these were more snacks than anything. Finally he decided he'd nab most of the lot as loot for his own little gang back over at Neverland. This would make a fine treat, and would probably save them the trouble of stealing from the Pirates. Well, some of the trouble – he couldn't imagine all what he'd be taking now would last them very long. Still, beggars couldn't be choosers, so Peter greedily took as much as his arms could carry.

"Oh snap – !" Down fell a bottle of jam that had slipped by his grubby hands and – smash! – collided right on the concrete floor, making a sticky and dangerous mess.

Not to mention noise.

It wasn't too long after he heard, at a distance, the soft patter of footsteps climbing down a flight of steps. "Cupcake darling? Is that you? How many times have I told you, no eating after midnight!"

"Shoot," he wasted no extra second and darted on out of kitchen through the window – not before accidentally banging his head against the wall in his frantic haste to make exit from whence he came.

_That wasn't very successful_, he told himself, as he hovered up and away from the house keeper's range. He settled high enough that he was away from the house keeper's eyes but close enough to vaguely make out the scene that played out in the kitchen he attempted to raid. The kitchen lights suddenly turned on and an elderly woman soon came into a view, her head moving from left to right in what Peter could only guess was confusion. She later went to close the window then disappeared out of sight.

He cursed to himself. He rubbed his sore head then cursed to himself again. In his haste he had not only hit his head but dropped most of the loot during the crash of his head, even the caramel sweets he had found prior. The sole withstanding items being a few bars of chocolate and packet of cheese. He _hated_ cheese. He clicked his tongue, upset at himself for his clumsy display of thievery and at the fact that he couldn't even get back in to retrieve stolen goods.

But just as he was sighing to himself in midair, Peter caught sight of – just further on ahead – through an equally open window on the upper floor of a house – a faint shimmer. Peter had eagle enough eyes to decipher enough that it was a bowl of _something_.

Ooh, jackpot. Wide window, lights off – certainly whoever was occupying the room was either away or asleep. This was an open invitation he wasn't going to pass up – and not mess up this time. There weren't much questions left to be asked before he flew towards his newly found prize, eyes fixated and never leaving sight of it.

Peter flew right into what he vaguely distinguished as one's room, not to bothered about much else as he only had his target in sight. He was so fixated on his sighting that when he hovered downwards on the hard floorboards to walk towards the bowl, he realized – with a violent jump and fumble – that he hadn't landed on a floorboard at all.

He had landed on a _body_.

The sudden realization and shock caught Peter off-guard, and in result, had him stumbling over the body and landing head first on what _was_ hard floorboards. He groaned and mewled and screeched, rocking back and forth a little as he cradled his already sore head with his hands.

The sleeping body in question woke up with a start at the collision between itself and Peter Pan.

That somebody was Jamie.

Jamie shot upwards from his slumber in a bit of panic, until he saw the silhouette groaning and writhing on the floor, all the while holding his head in agony. Jamie's initial reaction was a wave of excitement. _Jack...!_ he thought to himself, _Jack really did come!_ He wasted no time and quickly scrambled himself from his makeshift bed to switch on his desk lamp.

When he turned back round to fully great his long awaited friend, he was surprised to see...that that wasn't Jack at all.

* * *

_to be continued ..._

* * *

_Additional Disclaimer: TV dialogue copyright Adultswim_


End file.
